Best Tinctures Poems
Poetry is tangerine and other potent or poisonous colors.
It is the breath you feel at the nape of your neck and
the strong caress of flesh on flesh, defying death.
It is most certainly Spring with petal flutters and jays
flittering about. Melodies come alive…words almost too
ravishing to versify…like brilliant diamonds and crystal lines.
Poetry is rhyme and not…it is time well spent. The clock
doesn’t give a hoot. It’s cuckoo to stand on your head
to get just the right angle, the geometric high. Likewise,
the adjustment on a thin wire, with ink blots to examine.
But a poet does, again and again, pounding at raw meat,
to settle a matter…but we never settle…there is always
one thing more. Death, maturity, seasonals. Let’s dig
up that grave. First we jump in, holding onto leaves dyed
in various tinctures. Often we swing over, on our trapeze,
thinking we are invincible - we don’t see the six foot ravine.
Not feeling trapped at all, until the Ice Queen shows up.
We paint that buttercup white, as if it were virtuous.
She vividly holds up the scales to weigh our slights,
to slow us down…now,
we dribble upon the page…drivelling every nuance, as if
our kids (our words) were leaving home and we need to drill
just one more thing. Sadly our words will hang
and slowly scroll away…our scribbles fondly remembered
by a few for a while (and our smile)
Paint giraffes ouside the line, and gaffes - keep them in time.
Don’t be afraid to annunciate or not…to be literate or
alliterative…to be silly…oh do be silly…to be human…
to be common or uncommon…we all have our place.
We are the apostrophes, colons and periods. We stop
in mid-sentence a lot. We throw the hammer down
with an exclamation point or dot. We write run ons
or put out briefs. We admire awe. This is just a small
treatise of thought…a mud pie, but certainly not
a prize…but I say, the prize is in the beholder’s stall.
3/13/2023
Jesus replied, “Foxes have holes
and birds of the air have nests,
but the Son of Man has no place
to lay his head.” Matthew 8:20 NIV
PLACE OF RESPITE
Cheek-tinge of pink dawning in the murky skies.
Blandness of deep-earthed bark, stretching,
touched by birdsong…long overdue, it pries
the stirring of tinctures, heart-revival fetching.
The soft cooing of dove-white countenance
behind the adventurous arms of upright praise.
The milky colorant, the soothe of boundlessness,
heaven’s face — the wise eyes of Jesus’ blaze.
Crustose lichen of green, subtle stripes of peel,
signature branch-sketch, by God’s hand, varicose
leans into his every word — his glory-heel
at cross-times past, every blood path, bellicose.
Eureka! I once again, open my ears to golden notes.
Why is chirping so charming? …like an angelic shake,
the bell one or many…the beckon from furry coats,
unseen-existence b’neath the heaven’s silver lake.
The light brightens on the horizon, a New Year shines
through the I’m-glad-I’m-home-steal-my-heart blinds
Familiar bittersweets and blues, buttercup-yellows, signs
that love is close of hand and hearth, most oft’ kind.
1/4/2022
I see the colors of God
in the blue of sky, in
the glorious sunsets--
His passion on brilliant
display—I see His gold
in the swaying wheat
and in the blossoming
glens, ripe with wings and
musical droning...
I see His constantly
changing shapes, my eyes a
pallet and canvas of restless
tinctures and swirling hues—
life is avionics!
(acrobats us all!)--our
hearts most comfortable
with wings and flights,
magic vistas that dazzle
both mind and spirit,
the highs we inhale
and the mists
we trustingly explore—
we are dreamers…
I see God sleeping
and awakening...
in peaks and valleys of
dark, enchanting depths;
I see God in the vast cosmos--
hear His call, and hark-in to
his wonder and power.
I see
God through His eyes that
He gave me—my love personified
with each new one of His
ever brighter
newly arousing dawns.
I see God, and with each
revelation...love and
adore Him exponentially
more, despite His often
fickle-man….
Observe and see
Festive cheer warms;
Spirits set free
~~~~~~~~~
Cherry blossoms
Pink carpet pathway;
Waiting patiently
~~~~~~~~~
Here's to you
Sakura moments;
Sparkling sunshine
~~~~~~~~~
Moon overhead
View from my window;
Tender conversations
~~~~~~~~~
Mahjong games
Relatives chit-chat;
My winning streak
~~~~~~~~~
Touch of magic
Spring wind rustles;
Cheery blossoms fall
~~~~~~~~~
Moonlight stroll
Old arch bridge;
Squeaky wood groans
~~~~~~~~~
Two cats sit
Eerie moon glow;
February interlude
~~~~~~~~~
Business sold
Fortune gained;
Hollow feeling
~~~~~~~~~
Here's to good cheer
Another year;
Grey hairs draw near
~~~~~~~~~
Old footpath short cut
Patient feet chiseled;
Old habits die hard
~~~~~~~~~
Memories unfurl
Grass verge updates;
Poignant moments
~~~~~~~~~
Joy greets sorrow
Sad together;
Melancholia sings
~~~~~~~~~
Elysia calls
Going home again;
Sudden departure
~~~~~~~~~
Photo album
Old era relatives;
Sepia burnout
~~~~~~~~~
Study abroad
Down Under Melbourne;
Kangaroo hop-scotch
~~~~~~~~~
Tinge of sadness
Stop to remember;
Fond times quicken
~~~~~~~~~
Airport terminal
Exquisite dine-in;
One for the road
~~~~~~~~~
Listless here
Holiday moods;
Mahjong punctuation
~~~~~~~~~
Toss of lucky food
Yu Sheng expose;
Fortune smiles
~~~~~~~~~
Words catch up
Meaning and motive;
Juxtapose
~~~~~~~~~
Spring season
Oriental red;
Chinatown tinctures
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
22 February 2015
Singapore
When fallen angels came roaring down,
Darkness formed the company of Nephilim,
In renowned legend, armed with more legion
Godless tinctures fleece hapless Canaan town.
The grim left breath in the ground, wild and wet,
Through Pitch-black gate, giant beings embark.
Deluge of demons rising from the dark, deep pit
Roaming around, trying hard to find the Ark,
Dappled with flu, attack the faithful few,
What would the ancient world be like?
Once bereft, now, strength of nobility drew
Windpuff deeds out of what history left.
In the pool, that groans with banshee froth
Fortunes loom to our detrimental doom,
Which craft hides the most fear in the cloth?
That covers the sea in secret phenomenon.
Salem sail on Siren, over the deep waters
Basham shadows frowning, despair of drowning
In baptism of fire for atonement of martyrs,
We at ease, see surprise revival of the Nephilim.
Let the disembodied imps that were chained
In the wicked wilderness, phantoms burn in urns,
Nymphs and Nixies witches that religion claimed
Will descend again, in latter times, reigning flames.
Bamboo clusters sway
New year breeze hurls;
Tinctures of dawn
~~~~~~~~~
Magic moments thrill
Beginnings beckon;
A touch divine
~~~~~~~~~
Here in this room
Writes of a sort;
Colour sparks tints
~~~~~~~~~
Waiting upon words
Wit fondles pun;
Collect stray fragment
~~~~~~~~~
By park detour
Wet wooden benches;
Desolate feel
~~~~~~~~~
December died
In January rain;
Sadness wets well
~~~~~~~~~
My darling calls
Grocery shopping lists;
So much To-Do
~~~~~~~~~
Love wears a face
It's you my love;
My magic moment
~~~~~~~~~
Three decades old
You and I journey;
Starry starry night
~~~~~~~~~
Morning mystique
Sun on terrace;
Colours at play
~~~~~~~~~
Haiku strains
Zen garden charm;
Stillness funds beauty
~~~~~~~~~
Star Wars saga
The Force moves;
Good versus Evil
~~~~~~~~~
YinYang twist
Round in circles;
Opposites flirt
~~~~~~~~~
Jerky notes
Fumbling expressions;
Fleeting gains
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
06 January 2016
Singapore
Breezy balmy zephyr
Whistling through your hair;
Sparkling sunburst
~~~~~~~~~
Waltzing on the breeze
Lady with parasol;
Sunscreen stroll
~~~~~~~~~
Old friends meeting
Chat over lunch;
Journey update
~~~~~~~~~
Words in brief entry
Journey journal;
Vivid self-talk
~~~~~~~~~
Afternoon siesta
Drowsy with sweet talk;
Somnolence loiters
~~~~~~~~~
Charming manners preside
Good nature speaks;
Gentle murmurings
~~~~~~~~~
Listen calmly
My lovely heart knows;
Details unnecessary
~~~~~~~~~
Magic moments --
Nothing unusual really,
Simple agendas attend
~~~~~~~~~
And when you look
Do you see me;
Pretty blue flower
~~~~~~~~~
Bamboo garden
Stray wind ruffles leaves;
Raindrops slide
~~~~~~~~~
Pen and blank paper
Ink stains converge;
Word art fashions
~~~~~~~~~
Fine line sketches
Glimpses in a swirl;
Frozen images
~~~~~~~~~
Art in sure craft
Draft after draft;
Emotional
~~~~~~~~~
Sense a new sight
Broad strokes highlight;
Mood tinctures
~~~~~~~~~
Old friends meet
Share a meal;
Surprising moments
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
26 September 2014
Singapore
PAINT MOVERS
As dawn lifts the darker veil of night
On spectrum of colours' soft wings fresh day arrives
Holding palette to paint emotions of delight
Bursting from land of prism rainbow skies
Light of sparkling mid-day
Wide dreamy yonder devoid of shadows
Painting shades of mauve keeping sadness at bay
In mind myriad tinged moments glow
With the approaching, early evening
Memories fill rooms of heart and mind
With soft breeze, ocean of feelings oscillating
Afterthoughts soaked in tints unfeigned
Sundown light dull fading to twilight's black
Looking beyond has cool tinctures of moonscapes' gleam
Calm, shady boughs on night's canvas dark
Night's silhouette crossing through soul's realms
Falling curtains of a day less special
Reels of kaleidoscope kept intact for following day
Paint mover,nature effortless burble of time with perfection
Turning twisting sparkled by memories ray
17/10/2018
Gathered as a swarm of bees,
He stands poised with swollen knees,
Squinting forcefully towards fleeting
Dreams, beyond the dreadful, scum sucking
Incumbants, bathing in their own excrement.
Eyes opaque like a hard boiled egg;
Squishy, bleeding yoke chased
By morbid impulses and frenzied statements.
He was then approached by a herd of hallowed
Holograms, draped with voided encodements borrowed
From sagacious salamanders, and the like. It's priced
Similarly to what can never be bought.
Open wounds salved with the next bloody
Thought, entangled incessantly with petty
Constructs protruding simultaneously, with
Belligerance graced by drunken discourse.
Fingers dance to the beat of the force
Ash pummels perverted protagonists perched
Precociously, pompously, perpetually a passage
Penetrates related, inflated, deflated Ids and egos.
Happenstance leaks out in porous rivulets linked
Like DNA strands sullied, salty, sacreligious
Particles, still he permeates into tinctures
Possesing glorious stimulations with sphincters.
Bursting shades of fire ember sweet desire
an Orange Jubilee, bathing in the sun
Wild charmed poppies, blushing sunsets
paprika colored dahlias blowing in the wind;
Nostalgic golden lights of evening twilight
resplendent in vivid splashes of yellow
Brass dreams tinted with soul's aspire,
a wedding band of love that's timeless, old.
Tinctures of diamond hues of sapphire
indigo skies of teal, a planetary cosmic,
infinite as the heavens that filled the stars *
Blue corn moments of sweetness,
the artist's palette shimmers with light
Starry Starry Night, twirling gazes
barely grazing, each color begins to bleed
beneath the morning fields of amber gray
Overlaid in silver the graying tones of life
muted to perfection, a priceless heirloom.
Impearled rosary beads, fingers turn
the sterling breaths of love begin anew.
Paint not in shades that don't belong to you
for even God alone could not replace the hue,
create the perfect shade in you, dear one
and don't forget to be the best that you can be.
pale colors arcing
gilding sun tinctures sparking
gray mist darkening
The perfect woman dotes her frame,
the border of her beauty true,
and prides her fragile clarity,
for filth can never filter through.
Though I myself am not allured
by women who are without tint,
and frankly I can neither love
nor give them any compliment.
Don't think me harsh, those who apply;
instead, entrust your ears to me.
The film you bear belittles you:
remove thy trite transparency!
Your pale visage has no appeal,
for inner beauty yields a shade,
and smears its hue upon the face:
a palette that you have betrayed.
I much prefer my glass unique,
with blurry views and colored cracks.
I much prefer uncertainty,
and that, madame, your mirror lacks.
Abscond my dear from judgment's light;
resurface when you can reflect
the loyal sheet you were endowed
and tinctures that the youths expect.
Adieu to you young carnal pane;
I much prefer my windows stained.
‘When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.’ - Lauren Eden
lilies and ravens
dance together making mud puddles
thick as salve caked on deep wounds
stemming not the ooze
tinctures from droppers
bitter herbs labeled for survival
use only as directed
replenish nothing
rancid birthday cakes
gleeful candles form dancing shadows
glassy story-telling eyes
yearn desperately
gleaming steel knives slice
neat little rows across the table
the sacrificial altar
where naked I lay
ignorant children
don't see the bullies in their own homes
doling birthrights like feed for
ravens and lilies
Written 8 April 2025
For the contest Light or Shadows hosted by Suzette Richards
Written: September 9, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Rob Carmack
Quote: "Lovers have heartaches that can't be cured by drugs or sleep, or games, but only by seeing their beloved" By Rumi
**********
In the garland of ailments, we sip nepenthe,
anodyne tinctures in elegant flasks—
murmurous promises, beauteous masks,
each fard a façade, each pill a palimpsest
of pain rewritten in mellifluous ink.
Pneumology sings in stertorous sighs,
dyspnea dances under the aegis of relief.
We stroll through the lanes of this lush haven.
The breathtaking tablets gaze into bliss.
What trendy medicine pills and supplies
Supply human beings with many ways to support?
I share on the matter of preventing slurs.
The breakdown of moiety and the rise of risk.
For even the most ductile clay
may crumble in the quagmire of misuse.
In the seraglio of spurious bliss,
the simple and the iconoclast alike
grasp the absurdity of escape.
Acherontic powders, hexed and hissing,
wafture through the penumbra of parties,
where flapdoodle masquerades as rapture.
fear grips the veins—
a jussive urge, impetuous and egregious.
We extemporize joy, inhale incarnadine dusk,
and resile from reason with pertinacity.
turbulent dawns, wan and woebegone,
usher in ischemia’s kiss,
a paucity of comeliness,
a summary of sorrow.
The lush becomes lurid,
the sumptuous turns stygian.
Even the most miraculous odyssey
may cease in necrotic silence.
Meliorism in time to come
Yet still, amid the desiccation,
a scintilla of optimism coruscates.
The riparian soul, lithe and lit with Love,
may manipulate a raw moiety of meaning.
Through the shield of empathy,
the one who heals
may reclaim the palimpsest of self.
Not all who inhale are lost—
Some merely seek the empyrean
through alternate doors.
Let us not belittle
the addict, the patient, the seeker.
Each belongs to a consanguineous ilk
of yearning, of zoetic ache.
So let us offer not just palliation,
but propinquity,
not just summary judgment,
but the sacred burnished balm
of understanding.
Let Love be the panacea,
let compassion be the coruscation
that flickers in the penumbra
of every pharmacological night.
Broad reach branches, dark scarred where limbs emit
Bounce shade places, host seat of friendship
Parasitic Mistletoe grows yellow finger medicinal cure
Administered in tinctures mixed by druid pure
Ailing then prevaing, seas writhe with full school fish
Activated magic captured unwraps each wish
Ordained as safe keepers for an original environment
Aeromancy conjurs storms, thus alter climate
Warriors tosseling with authority implement petitions
Praised psychic saints deploy predestination
Sigil symbols fester desire for securing forest density
Hydrophants, flaminica consult power of Siri
Circle hospitable to village folk, sitting without seam
Cherishing nature draws them in daos creed
Respectful ring around mother, wizened mighty Oak
Nature maintained deity, optimal aim evoked
17th December
- Celtic champions -